Legacy of the Future
by Obsidian Skye
Summary: When the Planet's Chosen Hero and the World's Enemy are given an opportunity to right wrongs, they must overcome...or at least respect their differences in order to prevent catastrophe from happening again. Time-travel, occurs during final battle of ACC.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This being my favorite video game, and after reading some FANTASTIC fanfic on here, I decided to try my own! This is my first, but comments are welcome (including those regarding grammar, spelling, context, etc.). I know there are a lot of time-travel fics on here, but I hope this one...is slightly different, if nothing else. Timeline is skewed for a reason... Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Despite my dreams to the contrary, I own NOTHING of Final Fantasy VII. It's all Square Enix's. ^_^**

Chapter 1

A forceful kick in the chest was nothing compared to crashing into the collapsed remains of the Shinra building after tumbling twenty feet through the air; while dust and debris rained down on him, he stood shakily as his enemy waited patiently out on the helicopter landing platform as if wondering what he would do next.

The eerie metallic howl of Masamune forced a surge of electricity to course through him, and with an angry roar, the muscles in Cloud's aching body bunched and through every pore erupted blue flame-like energy as he reached his Limit Break; he swung First Tsurugi around and struck a pose before dashing out through the broken window, finding that his enemy was already running forward to meet him with sword raised overhead.

Hoping against hope that he could, at the very least, weaken Sephiroth with his unpredictable Omnislash, Cloud hacked and stabbed at the silver-haired man, but with supernatural speed and accuracy, his nemesis blocked every single move. Irritated, Cloud snarled and vaulted head-over-heels backward and, as he landed, launched himself high into the air with First Tsurugi prepped to bear down on Sephiroth.

Too late, however, did Cloud notice Sephiroth take a casual step back, sadistically lock eyes with him and hold Masamune out in his left hand at a forty-five degree angle upward…impaling Cloud fatally through his chest on his way down. Suspended in the air, his body seized from head to toe in unimaginable, searing pain, Cloud's breath caught in his throat and he grasped Sephiroth's blade as blood began to seep slowly down its length.

The General's bass-baritone voice cooed torturously from below, and Cloud forced his mako blue gaze to meet the green cat-like eyes of his enemy. "Is this the pain you felt before…Cloud?"

Cloud's grip tightened on Masamune as he felt his punctured heart struggling to continue pumping, and gritted his teeth as he hung limp and powerless from the end of Sephiroth's sword, hearing hardly anything through the whooshing sound that suddenly filled his ears.

Sephiroth continued to mock him from the ground, pleased with his handiwork. He had positioned Masamune for precise consequences; _even the interventricular septum of his mako-enhanced heart could never withstand the thrust of a sword from a god_, he thought in satisfaction. For a moment, he simply watched as Cloud's body convulsed on the end of his faithful Masamune, aware that this pain was _exactly_ what the little hero had already felt. A smirk crossed his lips as his black coat and long platinum hair swirled in the whipping wind; tainted, black tendrils of Lifestream mixed with cement dust and dirt from the decrepit building falling down around them.

"Let me remind you; this time, you won't forget," Sephiroth said contemptuously as he sensed Cloud slipping away. The boy's eyes shot open at his words and to add insult to injury, in a flurry of raven feathers Sephiroth's wing erupted from his right shoulder blade; startled, Cloud inhaled sharply, and felt the cold steel of Masamune calculatingly slicing deeper into precious internal organs, sending needles of agony through every nerve-ending in his body.

Without warning, Sephiroth flung Cloud unceremoniously off the end of his weapon, launching him upward in a wretched display of flailing arms and legs. With a single, powerful stroke of his wing, Sephiroth took off after his enemy; hearing the difficulty in Cloud's breathing filled him with an undeniable sense of delight, but he frowned when he noticed the little hero had miraculously maintained a hold of that monstrosity he called a sword.

Sephiroth plunged Masamune at Cloud, and the boy was able to block two of the left-handed General's attempts to make contact with his body, but the rest met their mark with horrifying precision. Cloud's arms, legs, and ribcage became key targets as Sephiroth sought to sever major arteries and hasten Cloud's death on his own terms. Blood dripped past his handsome face and his green eyes became slits, gleaming viciously as he continued his gruesome assault on Cloud's body.

Through pain-induced shock and his ability to breathe slowly ebbing, Cloud's powerful survival instinct kicked in when Masamune skewered his left foot and raked atop his knee and thigh, all the way up to leave a big clean cut across his left cheek. Gripping the blade tightly, wishing for Sephiroth's merciless bombardment to just…_stop_, Cloud felt as his body was flung off his enemy's blade for the second time that evening. This time, however, it was away from the sky and toward the hard, unforgiving concrete Shinra helipad.

Cloud watched in horror as the ground came up to meet him, and he crashed-landed hard on the platform, leaving a permanent, blood-stained dimple in the already ruined Shinra complex. Blood dripped from numerous wounds throughout his body, and he took a raspy breath and felt the warm liquid bubble up from the wound in his chest and gush up his throat onto his teeth. The malevolent Jenova buzz in his brain he felt due to Sephiroth's proximity dwindled as his body fought to do nothing but stay alive; without knowing why, he reached for the fallen First Tsurugi at his side, and attempted to stand.

His weakening body would not heed his commands, and Cloud resolved to use his precious sword as a crutch only. Blood dripped from his chest and mouth and joined droplets of its comrades on the concrete as a single thought crossed Cloud's hazy mind: _Aerith's church_. If he could get there, and perhaps use the Cetra girl's beautiful healing water, he might have a chance to once again save his beloved Planet, and those he loved. If he stayed here, Sephiroth would not hesitate to deal him the killing blow and make good on his promise to use the Planet as nothing but an empty vessel. As his nemesis triumphantly crooned above him, Cloud summoned his absolute last reserves of energy.

"Tell me what you cherish most," Sephiroth commanded as he watched the bleeding, pathetic excuse of an enemy below him slowly die. Knowing the boy's mental defenses would be all but shattered, the General probed Cloud's mind for an answer he knew he would not receive willingly.

Cloud flinched as he felt invisible fingers pricking the recesses of his psyche, searching for an answer he refused to give freely. Not wanting his enemy to have any more of an advantage over him than he already had, Cloud attempted to throw up make-shift mental walls to shield the faces of those he held dear…in vain.

Victoriously, Sephiroth mentally prepared himself to finally end Cloud's life, and has he reached deeper into the blond hero's mind, he was rewarded handsomely with the faces of those whom Cloud loved the most, both alive and dead. _Marlene, Tifa…Zack._

"Give me the pleasure of taking it away." Sephiroth said almost in askance as he hurled himself at Cloud on the ground, his Masamune singing its death song.

"NO!" Cloud screamed and with all his might, pulled himself onto his own two feet and sprinted across the platform toward the slums of Midgar Sector 7. Aerith's church was barely visible as he hurled himself over the edge of Shinra's helipad, knowing the momentary confusion would only hinder Sephiroth so long.

Landing clumsily on the lower plate, Cloud staggered and caught himself on one knee as he took a ragged, blood-filled breath and looked up to see the ruins of the church. With purpose, and dragging First Tsurugi on the ground behind him, too weak to hold the weapon up, Cloud made his way toward the church, eying his motorcycle Fenrir sadly as he hobbled along.

A blinding fury rose up within Sephiroth's chest when Cloud verbally _and_ mentally shouted at him, and he watched through a curtain of red as the little hero somehow mustered enough strength to dash across the helicopter landing platform and launch himself over the edge to the lower plate. Sephiroth's downward momentum forced him to take a knee upon landing, but a beat of his wing helped him to stand to his full six-foot-one height and Masamune hung loosely in his left hand. For a moment, he was caught off guard and merely watched in amusement as his prey scurried away.

_Oh, no you don't, you little bastard,_ Sephiroth thought, having difficulty recalling the last time he lowered himself by using such a belittling profanity. Understanding that Cloud was living on borrowed time, and that the little hero was inhaling his last few breaths, Sephiroth snorted and slowly turned and walked unhurriedly to the edge of the helipad.

His mako-enhanced eyes missed nothing, and he found himself content to kneel down and simply observe his victim, in confusion over what Cloud was doing. He had been so utterly close to victory, to sealing a fate that Cloud had chosen when the boy was sixteen, and Sephiroth was loathe letting his enemy have any say in how this day was going to end.

Sephiroth chuckled quietly to himself, and spoke warningly to Cloud as the blond hero disappeared into the flower girl's church. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you are in control, little one. Before this day is out, I will rightfully claim your life as it belongs to me. Take your time, Cloud. You do not have much to speak of, as it is."

* * *

The wrecked church was a welcome sight as Cloud pushed open a door and stepped inside. Feeling as if he were walking in a dream-state, knowing his dying body was starved for oxygen and blood, he propped First Tsurugi up at the door and unbuckled the sword harness around his torso. He let the cumbersome piece of equipment drop with a thud to the floor, collected his weapon and continued in slow painful strides toward the glistening water.

His eyes were heavy and his breathing was labored, and with his chin dipped almost to his bleeding chest, Cloud made it to the ethereal pool and dropped to his hands and knees; First Tsurugi clanged pitifully to the wood floor at his right side. Blood dripped into the water and swirled about before being consumed to its depths, and for a fleeting moment, Cloud held a sliver of hope.

Straining all his senses to determine Sephiroth's whereabouts, Cloud thought he perceived his enemy land softly outside; he was shocked, however, when a small voice in his head told him he really did not care anymore. _If this fails, it's over._

He turned his head and looked at his reflection in the glassy water; blond spikes were dirtied by blood and dust, and his once radiant glowing blue eyes were filled with pain, nearly lifeless. He noted the blood on his mouth and made to quickly wipe it away, but the movement was like an ice pick and Cloud found it hard to look at the gory wound on his chest.

Dipping a gloved hand into the water then, he pressed the healing liquid to the most critical of his wounds, but soon discovered a pain unlike any he had felt before when the cool water made contact with the exposed nerve-endings in his chest, and he nearly lost consciousness. Tragically, the holy water seemed to have no effect on the direness of his wounds, and Cloud even resorted to taking a gulp of it to no avail.

Evil laughter filled his ears and, with the creaking of a floorboard, a high-frequency whine with which he was too familiar suddenly forced an adrenaline rush, and Cloud turned his head to see his enemy standing triumphantly over him. Sephiroth nestled the tip of Masamune on the ribs under Cloud's left arm, gave it a small flick and the blond hero cringed as the blade sliced his flesh open again, and blood trickled down his side.

"The Cetra girl's holy water was ineffective? That's unfortunate," Sephiroth purred from behind his enemy, to which Cloud responded by closing his eyes tight and clenching his teeth in an attempt to shut out the General's words. He found himself wishing it was yesterday, when Sephiroth's existence was no more than three feeble remnants, and Cloud wished he could have done things differently. He would have confronted Rufus about the man's flexible relationship with the truth regarding the whereabouts of Jenova's remains, thus possibly preventing an unstoppable chain of events that inevitably led up to this moment.

_My existence is hardly feeble, little hero,_ the General's chilling voice sounded in his head, and Cloud put a hand to his temple. _I live in _you_, Cloud; you are a part of _me_, as I am you, and there is no hope of escape._

"There is always hope of escaping evil," Cloud muttered almost incoherently as Sephiroth stepped beside up him, momentarily breaking the telepathic connection between them. The blond-spiked head lifted as blue eyes met green and the silver-haired man knelt down to be eye-level with his fallen nemesis. His wing was folded at his back and Masamune hovered too dangerously close for Cloud's liking, but he could gather no strength to swat his enemy away.

A cascade of silver tumbled over Sephiroth's exposed chest as he placed a hand on the pauldron covering Cloud's left shoulder and gave him a mighty shove backward. The blond swordsman landed on his back and Sephiroth grinned as he sensed the boy had, at long last, relinquished any attempt to fight back. He stood once again to his imposing height and gazed down on his fallen enemy; Cloud looked up at him through defeated, tear-filled eyes, gasping for breath.

The blood on Cloud's shirt-front made the dark blue material look black, and Sephiroth inhaled supremely, glancing at the blood that laced the corners of Cloud's mouth. Stretching his wing to its fullest in a last show of intimidation and conquest, Sephiroth placed the tip of his sword to Cloud's chest, relishing the fact that the life-force that beat within belonged to him…and it would be _Sephiroth_, in the end, who would decide when it beat its last.

"You have no hope, hero." His voice was lowered to barely a whisper as he added pressure to Cloud's sternum. "Now, you shall die…"

"There is always hope, Sephiroth," a small, feminine voice sounded from all around them. The only emotional response Sephiroth gave was a furrowing of platinum eyebrows and Cloud merely blinked in confusion. Near one of the fallen pillars, a human form began to take shape and Sephiroth retracted slightly as the pink-clad flower girl materialized out of thin air.

"And Cloud, he has never given up on hope," Aerith's innocent, soothing voice filled the church as she took a step toward the two men. Gently, she put a hand to Sephiroth's out-stretched arm and he gave her an incredulous look before pulling away in anger.

"Aerith…" Cloud sputtered hoarsely as he attempted to stand up. He got to his elbows before the Cetra girl knelt beside him and placed a hand on the wound on his chest. In her palm, blue wisps of light mended the wound, and Cloud sucked in breath as old magic coursed throughout his body, mending every cut, stitching every muscle, and sewing every blood vessel back together.

Her beautiful emerald eyes danced with delight as Cloud's battered mind came back to reality; she stood and stretched out her hand in an attempt to help him stand. Cloud, now miraculously fully healed, knew the delicate woman would be injured should he accept her help, so he shook his head as he stood shakily.

"Do you believe in second chances, Cloud?" Aerith asked when she saw that he could, indeed, stand on his own. His eyes flicked to Sephiroth standing in a shadowed corner, and furrowed his blond eyebrows.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, his voice sounding more familiar to him. Cloud stepped toward Aerith as emotions suddenly flooded him; he wanted to hug her, hold her, to see if she was real or a figment of his imagination.

She took a step back, however, and almost imperceptibly shook her head. "I am not physically here, Cloud. This is my essence, my spirit that became one with the Planet, and I have come before you to offer both of you a rare opportunity."

Remembering what it felt like being run through by Masamune made Cloud clench his fists. "What do you mean by 'both of you'?" He locked eyes with Sephiroth in the corner as the General stepped forward to engage in the conversation.

"Evidently, your hearing is as bad as your hairstyle." Sephiroth replied and Aerith cautiously put some distance between her and the big General. "If I have surmised correctly, this will be something that the Planet has never before attempted. An opportunity for…"

"You mean going back in time? To when?" Cloud interrupted Sephiroth, not too fond of the General's boorish monologues, dismissing the insult against his meticulously-styled spikes.

"Not to a time you lived, but a time that _could_ have been, so to speak," Aerith clasped her hands together as the two men gawked at her. "My people have deemed it necessary to furnish you will all your enhanced abilities and memories for this second chance; but just so you know, this opportunity has stipulations. Wrongs must be righted, connections must be made, and catastrophes must be averted…or you will be returned to this exact time and spot to suffer whatever fates the Planet already had in mind for the both of you."

Immediately, Cloud thought of Tifa, and his eyes widened in anticipation. _Second chances…stipulations_? "What is going on?"

"Second Class SOLDIER Cloud Strife," Aerith began, and it only took Cloud a moment to realize she was speaking to him about what he was _going_ to be in this second chance. He never made SOLDIER in this reality. "You must make amends with your family, your friends, bring down the corruption within Shinra, fight with honor still as the Planet's Chosen Hero, but you will answer to no one but…_him_."

As emotions flooded him, the mako in his bloodstream surged and his eyes lit up like lightning. Cloud's heart sank at her last sentence, and he saw the smirk on Sephiroth's lips and felt his green eyes drilling him ravenously. With a cute giggle, she turned to the man who had executed her in this lifetime, her ponytailed hair situating itself over one of her tiny shoulders.

"General Sephiroth Crescent, SOLDIER First Class, you must aid Cloud in exposing the corruption within Shinra, learn the _truth_ about your family, prevent disaster, but you will be held accountable to _him_, as he is to you." Aerith said wistfully and as a reply, Sephiroth struck Masamune into the church floor and glared at her.

"I will do no such thing," he growled at her and held up a gloved hand when Cloud began marching toward him. "_Unless_ I can pencil-in my own requests."

"Unfortunately, I cannot grant any personal wishes," Aerith sighed heavily and Cloud's breathing relaxed. She stepped toward the middle of the sanctuary, making sure that both warriors' eyes were fixed on her. Sephiroth had felt rejection on numerous occasions in the past, but this one cut him to the quick, and he watched her with an evil smirk as she stood in the middle of the church.

Cloud stepped up to be more in line with him and with a sneer, Sephiroth stepped closer to the boy in order to make situation as uncomfortable as possible. Aerith noticed the General's silly charade and shook her head; _those two will always play mind-games with each other, no matter how often the Goddess intervenes._

"Cloud, Sephiroth, your fates will be forever intertwined should you accept this gracious gift," Aerith began, coming to the more sobering details of this plan of the Ancients. As always, her voice was gentle and sweet, but the pink-clad young lady's face betrayed her inner emotions. "However, should you fail to right the wrongs of your individual pasts, the Lifestream will seize your souls and you will be placed right back in this old church, and you _both_ will die.

"Should one of you attempt to be noble and destroy the life of the other, you both will die. Cloud and Sephiroth, as you are in this life, you are bound to each other in this second chance, liable to the Goddess, the Planet, and the Ancients…and each other." Aerith finished and Cloud blinked and Sephiroth scoffed.

The Cetra girl momentarily let her child-like innocence shine through, and before she asked the two men if they accepted this mission, she added: "Please don't mess this up."

"Wait," Cloud interjected. "Will everyone else have the same memories or…?"

"They will not." Aerith replied lightly. "They will have memories that suit this next life only. Should you wish to enlist the help of some, you will have to go get them." She smiled sweetly, and Cloud knew of whom she spoke and nodded appropriately.

The silence of the church pressed down on the two men as each withdrew to his own thoughts. Cloud believed he heard the propellers of the _Shera_ high overhead, and thought about every single person onboard…Barret Wallace, for all the man's complaining, he had a lot to live for, and Marlene was his whole world; Cid Highwind, the washed-up pilot who really did love his wife in some demented way…and flying machines; Vincent Valentine, the brooding, quiet and dangerous man Cloud trusted with his life above all others; Yuffie Kisaragi, the Wutai Princess with an annoying affinity for materia, drunkenly sharing her secret feelings for a certain ex-Turk one night during a trip to Costa del Sol; Red XIII, the mysterious, thoughtful cat whose words held so much meaning; Cait Sith and Reeve, Cloud found himself missing the snarky comments from the facetious feline robot.

Then, there was Tifa. The bratty little girl who had grown into an incredible woman; his best friend, the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and be a husband to, and a father to their children. He knew this second chance would be the opportunity he needed to finally share the feelings he had had for her since childhood, how _she_ was the reason he went off to join Shinra, how _she_ was the one who's smiling face and encouraging words always brightened his day during the darkest period in his young life.

Cloud smiled outwardly, a gesture he had not made in a very long time and Aerith nodded, perceiving he had found one of the main reasons he was going to accept her offer.

Sephiroth crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest and dipped his head in thought. The faces of his two long-lost friends Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley stirred dormant emotions within him and he pursed his lips. Exposing Shinra's corruption would be easy, and it started with the weasel of a man who claimed to have fathered him. The notion had always held a significant amount of doubt in the General's mind, and aside from Strife, he had never truly desired to kill anyone other than that "walking mass of complexes".

_But what would Mother say?_ He thought with a frown, and found himself silently wondering if the blue alien had been pulling _his_ strings the whole time, rather than the other way around.

It would give him an opportunity to get away from this proverbial present-day hell, also, and to break the ties of torment Jenova had put him through on an hourly basis, giving him a chance to question her legitimacy when the Calamity had laid claim to his mind which, at the time, was emotionally shattered and in pain._ She would be wise to have answers for me when I confront her this time._

As for Cloud…_hmph, we shall see, little hero. Regardless, your life still belongs to me._

With a jerk of his head, his cat eyes rose to meet Aerith's big emerald orbs, and she visibly relaxed. She snickered, and said, "I see you both have come to a conclusion. Is it safe to say that you both accept this mission with honor, and will, to the best of your ability, see to it that it is accomplished?"

_Yes_, both men thought simultaneously, eliciting a glance from both of them to each other. Aerith then stepped forward and commanded the two kneel before her. In the language of the Ancient's, the flower girl placed a palm on the forehead of each man, and began a prayer.

In a swirl of light, the church disappeared, and the world faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Please bear with me as I lay the ground-work for this story. This chapter may seem slow, but I promise it will pick up in the next several chapters. As always, please review, and enjoy! (P.S. I made Sephiroth's birthday in November, because he strikes me as a November baby. Get over it, if you don't like it! Haha.) Also, sorry about the multiple email notifications...my computer had some communication issues with and I had to edit this chapter several times... ^^;  
**

**Disclaimer: Let me check one more time and...nope, still own nothing of the wonderfulness that is Final Fantasy VII. (:**

Chapter 2

The room was dark, but the sounds of the outside world permeated through the screen of the open window. It was way past midnight, and the only noise was that of a passing car, the honking of a horn…or the rumble of the Mako Reactors powering up every four hours; six times a day, sun-up or sun-down the massive machines had not failed once in the nearly half-century they had been a part of the city's skyline.

A pounding in his head from the reactors was what woke him, a burden he had carried since he was brought into this world that cold day in mid-November. It was uncommon that the mako in his system responded so violently to Shinra's virtual raping of the Planet every few hours, but considering he had just been dumped nearly a decade into a _possible_ past, Sephiroth hoped it would not be a reoccurring issue.

The blue LED lights on his bedside digital clock read three-quarters past one in the morning, and he sat up in bed, momentarily disoriented. He had little clue as to what day or year it was, but figured with the warm breeze wafting through the window accompanied by the unforgettable putrid smells of Midgar, it had to be early or mid-summer. Flicking on the lamp on his nightstand, the light caused his eyes to become slits as he took in familiar surroundings.

Shinra spared no expense when it came to their prized General, and his studio apartment, though impressive in size, was awash in neutral grays and black, giving it a distinctive male taste. Everything was exactly how he recalled it; and a small smile crossed Sephiroth's face as he stood and gazed at Masamune leaning up against the far wall in its scabbard, its hilt nearly touching the ceiling. The cool breeze caressed his bare torso and he went to his closet and threw on a non-descript black t-shirt and a pair of denim jeans.

Then, he made his way to the luxurious bathroom. His long platinum hair was braided down his back, a habit he had formed long ago in order to keep damage to a minimum while sleeping; his glowing cat-like green eyes still startled him when he looked at himself in the mirror, and he immediately noticed the scars on his arms and peeking through the v-neck shirt collar on his chest. Apparently, the Cetra wanted to make sure that nothing was left to chance, so they outfitted him (and probably Cloud, as well) with reminders of the wounds that had been inflicted upon him during his past life.

With a snort, Sephiroth absentmindedly unraveled the braid in his hair and ran a brush through the flawless locks. A leer crossed his face, then; _I would love to just take some scissors to this stuff; seeing the look on the President and the Director's faces when their poster-boy changed his infamous appearance would be deeply satisfying._ But he had been given a mission, and like the SOLDIER he was, the mission came first. Personal vendettas would simply have to wait…well, at least, _some_ personal vendettas. With an exasperated sigh, he returned the brush to its rightful drawer and walked out of the bathroom.

As he strode to turn on an overhead light in what could be called his living room, Sephiroth noted the month and year on his calendar:

July, εуλ 0002

His breath caught in his throat. This was just months before that fateful incident at Nibelheim and instantaneously, he furrowed his brows and thought of Cloud Strife. The boy, now back to his sixteen year-old self, had a lot of explaining to do, and that explanation would be heard _tonight_; Sephiroth strode with purpose to the laptop as his desk. The machine faithfully booted up as a plan began forming in his ever-calculating brain.

Letting the computer do its thing, Sephiroth collected a glass of ice water from the kitchen, and the refreshing taste cleared his mind even further. Taking a seat at his desk with water in hand, the General opened up a cataloguing program on his laptop that listed all SOLDIERs and infantrymen subordinate to him; their vital statistics, personal history, achievements, awards, reprimands, and…their schedules and sleeping quarters. With a sneer, Sephiroth scrolled through the alphabetically-listed last names down to 'S' and was rewarded with all he needed. He opened Cloud's file and found that the Ancients had conveniently provided him with a room all to himself…right across the hall from none other than Zack Fair, of course. _Indeed,_ Sephiroth thought evilly, _I suppose that just means I'll have to be extra quiet._ If his nocturnal perusing woke the puppy, he knew he'd never hear the end of it from Zack or his mentor, and the last thing he wanted was to sit through another one of Angeal's pride and honor lectures; not, at least, this soon after careening into a unknown past to save a possible future.

As General, he could request a keycard to any and all rooms within the Shinra complex; all he would have to do was get on the phone with the secretary in the Security department and she'd have a pass card ready for him in about fifteen minutes. Before doing that, however, Sephiroth retrieved a blank piece of paper and a pen in his left hand; writing down the number to Cloud's room and the phone number to Security before he shut down the computer and made his way toward the kitchen.

His PHS lay quiet on the marble countertop, and he eyed it momentarily before picking it up, dialing the number, and no doubt waking the sleeping secretary downstairs.

"Security, how may I help you?" A groggy female voice answered and Sephiroth made a mental note to himself to have the lazy wench fired in the morning.

"General Sephiroth here, and I need a keycard to room 6228B made immediately," his deep, commanding voice said softly, and he almost heard the woman's heart stop as she began typing on her computer.

"General, sir," she squeaked. "Room '6228B'. Yes, sir, that will be ready for you in approximately ten minutes, sir."

Without so much as a 'thank you', Sephiroth clicked the phone shut and tossed it back on the counter. The watch on his right wrist told him ten minutes would be plenty of time to march himself down to the Weapons department and acquire a gun. Though he detested using such a quick and messy method of death, this confrontation required stealth and a shock-factor that his beloved Masamune would simply fail to achieve. Additionally, no matter how hard he fought it, he knew he could not bring himself the satisfaction of killing the boy…_yet_. This was just a tactic to increase intimidation in order to attain the results he sought.

Sephiroth stepped into a pair of boots, slipped the keycard to his room and the piece of paper into one of the back pockets of his jeans and walked out his front door, leaving his apartment as dark as if he'd never been there. His living quarters emptied out to a long, broad hallway entirely devoid of human life. The red light of the elevator at the end of the corridor was the only indication that he had not just plunged into a vacuum, and he made his way toward that lift, pressing the necessary button to the floor housing the Weapons department.

Dealing with Scarlet was not what Sephiroth desired at the moment, so he was thankful that the head of Weapons Development had taken the night off, leaving her duties to a soft-spoken intern. _Most likely to fraternize her way further to the top_, the General mused in disgust as he stepped off the elevator and turned down one hallway in a maze of corridors to the gated storage area. Incredibly, he ran into no one of importance during his trek through the labyrinth of mazes known as the Shinra building; save for the occasional armed guard, who merely nodded at him as he passed, Sephiroth did not even see a prowling scientist or doctor, much to his relief.

The intern in Weapons, remarkably, was respectful and prompt, and in response, Sephiroth vowed to have the young woman offered a full-time job after her schooling. Interestingly enough, the brunette seemed unfazed when the legendary silver-haired General himself paid her a visit, requesting a large-caliber semi-automatic at half-past two in the morning, even. It was rather difficult to recruit such level-headed, courteous individuals at Shinra, and he gave her one of his rare, grounding smiles as he took the loaded gun from her with a nod as thanks.

The woman in Security would be afforded no such compliment, however. She presented Sephiroth with the keycard to Strife's room with shaking hands and misty eyes; he yanked it from her grasp and turned in a swirl of platinum and slammed the door behind him. In the elevator to the 62nd floor, he pinched the bridge of his nose and found himself half thanking, half ridiculing the Ancient's for this so-called 'second chance.'

A part of him was relieved that he could have this opportunity to bring down the company that had stolen his childhood, leaving him in the care of a man who delighted in putting him through excruciating daily tests and training simulations, and using his successes as an excuse to launch campaigns to attract starry-eyed new recruits. He felt like a tool, usable only until his value was drained, and then he was expendable, liable to be tossed into a garbage bin and shipped out to the dump for decomposition.

Sephiroth's heart skipped a beat and he swallowed nervously at the revelation. In this reality, he was mere human again, not the divine creature he had made of himself in the past life. He knew what it was like to die; the agony of when Cloud snatched the life out of him not once, but _twice_, had slapped him in the face, making him confront his own mortality no matter how many times, and in what forms, in which he returned. Death at the hands of the rifle-wielding Shinra army simply because he had worn out his welcome was terrifying.

The indicator inside the cramped elevator read floor forty-two, so he let his thoughts continue to run away with him. "But, then again, I've always known that, even in the past," he spoke softly to himself. He was disposable. For all his accomplishments and fame, he was still just a means to an end. They all were when it came to Shinra's bottom line. All his SOLDIERs, all his infantrymen, all the employees were simply _things_ that helped rake in the gil for the company…and people wondered why the turn-around rate was so damn high here.

Moreover, he knew way too much to simply be put out to some pasture when his time came. Should the vast amounts of information he carried about Shinra's inner workings fall into the hands of any number of the company's enemies, the higher-ups understood it would be devastating. If he turned traitor, _even if it was the right thing to do and evidently what the Ancients expected_, it would be like painting a big red target on his chest for the army, the Turks, or hired assassins on which to set their sights.

To hell with what the people thought of Shinra at that point…their greatest warrior had defected, and the price on his head would be enough for anyone to purchase the grandest loft apartment on the upper plate, should they attempt to cash it in and haul him in dead. Having one capable enemy was more than enough; yet, a chill ran up Sephiroth's spine at the thought of taking a bullet in the back from someone he could not see coming.

The thought was sobering, and Sephiroth glanced at the gun in his left hand, suddenly not so sure about his plan to rend even somewhat of an explanation from that little blond plague. The realization that he and Strife would have to work together to accomplish the Ancients' goals clenched unpleasantly at his heart, and he curled his lips back in a snarl. Cloud's overblown sense of heroics had irked him too many times in the past to count, and the fact that the boy put on a façade of innocence and superiority bent Sephiroth out of shape even further, making it conceivably difficult that he would feel nothing less than repulsion whenever he saw those irritating golden spikes milling about the Shinra complex.

"What in Gaia's name made the Ancients think him and I would ever work together toward a common goal?" He voiced out loud, slamming a fist into a panel of the steel box around him. "That is not even a remote possibility, if at all, unless I lay down some expectations first…"

_And, I will remind him of who is in charge regardless…and dammit, he will have an explanation!_ The elevator chimed on the quiet Second Class SOLDIER's floor just in time to prevent Sephiroth from talking himself into ending the boy's miserable life, no matter the consequences. He was in too deep now; they both were, and if they failed, he and Cloud would be yanked back to the crumbling remains of Shinra's building, to duke it out and die in a way the Ancient's saw fit. Sephiroth's controlling nature, however, found that alternate ending unacceptable as he made his way down the well-lit corridor.

Sounds of snoring seeped from under various doors, including the one that housed Zack Fair. Angeal's pup never changed no matter in which lifetime they were. But he was a good SOLDIER, and his sleeping patterns were hardly at the top of Sephiroth's concern list at the moment.

The gray, non-descript numbers of Strife's room were staring at him in the face, and he felt a buzz in his brain as the Jenova cells running through his body were excited at the closeness of another strong host body. As always, he found himself annoyed with the personal connection he shared with such insignificant human being. The mako in Sephiroth's body came to life as he slipped the keycard into the reader, his turquoise eyes glowing menacingly.

* * *

Nightmares gripped Cloud's mind as his body subconsciously became aware of another presence in the room, a presence that held as many Jenova cells as he and they were calling out to one another from each of their hosts' bodies. He dreamt about his past; the same nightmares that had plagued him for years were being relived as his nemesis stepped into his room without a sound. The traumatic experience of time travel had not aided in the levels of stress hormones in his small, but powerful body, either.

Aerith's death, Sephiroth's mind torture, Geostigma, the Three Remnants, and the feeling of being helpless as Cloud fought tooth-and-nail for the Planet he loved. Over and over and over again, like a demented record player set on loop, these dreams wrought havoc on him, falling from one reality to another with no hope of solid ground or connection and no way to stop a seemingly never-ending cycle of torment.

As Sephiroth approached the boy's bed, eyes aglow in the dark room, a breeze ruffled the curtains on the small window, illuminating the messy blond spikes and Cloud let out a muffled groan. The big General quietly cocked the gun and knelt down at Cloud's head just in time for the young SOLDIER's eyes to jerk open.

For a split second, Cloud's mind was still in its dream-state, and the haziness of the situation forced him to roll over on his back and look around the room. It only took the firing of a single neuron in his brain for recognition to set in, and he writhed away from those glowing green eyes and parted his teeth to let out a scream of terror.

A hand came over his mouth to stifle the shout of surprise in realization of who loomed over him in the blackness, while the other hand, with no amount of gentleness, shoved the gun to Cloud's sternum and pressed hard. Sephiroth shushed the frightened SOLDIER and Cloud halted his attempt to get away as his body heaved in great, frightened gasps. The muzzle of the gun was cold and painful, and the thought of a piece of lead exploding from the end of it and slamming into his chest made the hairs on the back of Cloud's neck stand up; and the fact that it was none other than Sephiroth on the other end of the gun made it even worse.

The terror in Strife's glowing blue eyes was incontrovertible, and Sephiroth smirked and Cloud's skin crawled as he heard that purring, nerve-racking voice once again. "Good evening, Cloud. Sorry to wake you, but we have several things to discuss."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Chapter 3, yay! And no more editing screw-ups thanks to an animosity between a Sony Vaio and a certain fan fiction website. O.O How am I doing, folks? Please let me know how you think this is going so far, or to what direction you'd like to see it go, in the reviews. Otherwise, I'm just going to think everything's hunky-dory. Plus, I love getting that kind of feedback (AND it may spawn ideas, you never know). As we say in the South: Seph ain't changed much…but Cloud is more cynical. Haha. Anyway, thanks, and enjoy!**

**P.S. My thanks to Ceri Dragonelle for catching my little military time mistake in this chapter. It has been corrected.**

**Disclaimer: …own nothing…sadly…FFVII and its awesomeness still belongs to Square Enix… However, Vincent Valentine can move in with me **_**anytime**_**. ^_^**

Chapter 3

Stillness and tranquility suddenly settled on Cloud's body as he stared into the face of his enemy; the hand was cold and clammy against his mouth, and the muzzle of the gun, he was certain, was going to leave a circular bruise on his chest he'd have to explain away in the next few weeks. Sephiroth's dangerous words left little room for doubt or question, and Cloud just blinked repeatedly after the General had spoken, hoping that maybe through his madness the man would see that he was more than willing to cooperate.

_What do you want, Sephiroth? You have my attention._ Cloud thought, his mind tapping apprehensively on the defenses of Sephiroth's psyche. He thought he saw a flicker of emotion cross his enemy's face as he pressed harder on Sephiroth's mind, but his attempt was brutally shot down and he retreated.

"When I remove my hand from your mouth," Sephiroth stated after taking in Cloud's abrupt change in manner and following the boy's futile attempt to tap into his consciousness, virtually ignoring the nearly intolerable Jenova buzz due to the prolonged contact of his flesh on Cloud's skin. He had startled the blondie, but the boy's body language had changed as soon he realized the General meant business with the weapon, and calmed himself in true SOLDIER method. Sephiroth then gave Cloud precise orders, emphasizing what the boy was permitted to do within set parameters, and the silver-haired man was, as always, in control of the situation.

"You will _not_ speak unless I ask a question. You will _not_ attempt to flee this room. You will _not_ shout for help. This gun _is_ loaded. Push me, and I _will_ use it. Do you understand, Cloud?" The green eyes did not blink, but a small smile formed across Sephiroth's handsome features when Cloud nodded slowly.

Words cannot describe the relief both of them felt when the General released his hand from the boy's lips; to Cloud's dismay, however, the gun remained trained on the heart that thundered beneath his sternum for a moment longer. Finally, Sephiroth rose to his feet and strode back to the door and flicked on the light switch. The room was awash in fluorescent brightness from hell, and both squinted at the assault on their sensitive eyes; Sephiroth was the first to recover, and looked around Cloud's small and unremarkably sparse, off-white and tan painted living quarters.

A small desk and chair occupied one corner, with a laptop identical to Sephiroth's sitting on top. _Shinra and their quest for uniformity… _The bathroom was small and, much like university dormitory suites, was shared with the occupants next door, whilst a small vanity, sink, and mirror afforded Cloud at least some privacy. The closet was small, and like the rest of the room, was nearly immaculate; to say the least for the boy, he was clean and organized and as Sephiroth's eyes darted around the room, he noted with disdain that maddeningly oversized butcher knife of a sword sitting in the small space in the corner at Cloud's headboard and the window. Clearly, the Ancients wanted some semblance of impartiality between the two enemies; Sephiroth snorted at the thought and noted as Cloud flung the sheets off himself and sat heavily on the edge of his bed.

Cloud looked around for a moment, completely unfamiliar with where he was; the room layout he distinguished from his memories, and he blinked as he recognized this as a mirror-image of Zack's room…only it was so characteristically his own that it even sported Cloud's affinity for lack of adornments on the walls. _Should put a nice poster up for some color, at least_, he thought absentmindedly, purposefully forestalling the inevitability of looking at Sephiroth a few strides away as he rubbed his chest and the back of his neck; even the thin t-shirt in which he seemed to have been placed had little effect on the strength in Sephiroth's arm.

Obeying the orders of silence he had been given, Cloud sighed exasperatedly and glanced hatefully in Sephiroth's direction. He knew the twisted man was simply drawing out the silence in order to be as annoying as possible, so, to busy himself, Cloud stood and went to the window, opening the shade to a full, grand view of the Shinra complex, the upper plate of Midgar, and the blackness of the wasteland beyond. A thick screen of mako-laced smog obscured his view of the stars, but he took in a deep breath of air and knew he was home…well, that is, a home-away-from-home infused with smells that probably had not been given a name yet. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants and frowned.

Nibelheim would always be where his heart belonged, no matter where life took him. This second chance made him realize that he had been self-centered in the past, thinking that he would be better off somewhere other than where he was born. Simply nothing on the Planet could surpass the brightness of the stars in the clear, crisp air of that small mountain town. He grinned slightly at past memories of the howling of various wolf packs that protected and roamed the area; since he had been a child, Cloud had loved the wolf and its symbology, hence his reason for adorning the clothing in his past life with its totem. To pass the time while Sephiroth was probably mentally counting every single strand of the foot-lengths of platinum hair on his head, Cloud let his mind wonder further.

This was a fresh start, a clean slate, and for all he knew he had only been in this 'second chance' world a few minutes or hours before the shithead standing behind him woke him from the deepest (and albeit one of the most disturbed) sleeps he had had in an extremely long time. Cloud found it amusing that his first thoughts, besides the fact he thought he might be royally screwed because Sephiroth was armed with something _other_ than Masamune, was Nibelheim. His mother was still alive, and young Tifa was probably awaiting that phone call he had promised her so many years ago.

Cloud wanted to go home, and this second chance had given him a whole new perspective and outlook on life. _Maybe, this won't be so bad, after all._

He noted with pleasure that the Ancients saw fit to have First Tsurugi accompany him, and he only imagined the hateful thoughts that were passing through Sephiroth's mind at his beloved custom-designed sword. Cloud finally decided to step away from the window and square himself with his enemy, and to make and keep eye contact, but it was a few moments before Sephiroth spoke.

"I have some basic, excruciatingly simple ground-rules to lie down before you, Cloud, if we are to proceed." The silver-haired man began, walking once again into what could be called the center of the room. "These rules would be considered common sense for most humans, but with you…"

"Can we skip the prologue? Just tell me what the hell is it you want, Sephiroth." Cloud dared speak and Sephiroth responded by leaping forward, taking Cloud's throat in his right hand and slamming him into the far wall between the bed and the window, not caring if there was a muffled thud as the boy's back made contact with it; in the same motion he brought the gun to Cloud's chest once again, smarting already tender and bruised flesh and bone. He did not struggle against Sephiroth's grip, but the hate-filled lightning in his mako-blue eyes was unmistakable. This, of course, only elicited a smirk from the notoriously aloof silver-haired General.

He took the boy's features in with scrutiny, and it was then that Sephiroth's earlier guesses were confirmed; there was a long white, almost perfectly straight scar on Cloud's left cheek and within seconds his eyes darted over the boy's exposed shoulders and arms and saw proof that Masamune had once again corroborated its immense worth. He was, indeed, virtually as scarred as Sephiroth.

"Your impertinence is making it very difficult to even begin consideration of the Ancients' plan, you wretched child," Sephiroth hissed at Cloud as he tightened his grip on his throat, his lips precariously close to the boy's ear. The blond hero frowned in earnest and looked at the General sideways. "I told you to hold your tongue, and like a marionette without its master, you refused to listen. Appalling."

Sephiroth backed away and his cat eyes blinked as he took in Cloud's reaction. He dropped his gun hand to his side as he released his throat and grabbed the computer desk chair, pulled it out to the middle of the room, and roughly, without much of the grace for which he was known, sat down heavily in it, his gaze never leaving Cloud's. In response, he watched Strife take a seat on the edge of his bed and lean forward, conveniently keeping his mouth shut this time while gently messaging his sternum.

"We are not friends, Cloud Strife." The General began, tossing a huge section of his long hair over his shoulder. His lips twitched in a snarl as he laid his feelings right out in front of Cloud, who merely responded by raising two blond eyebrows. "I have an intense dislike for you, if you have failed to figure that out by now…and I believe the dictionary term for that is _hate_. The scars you carry are just a small tribute to the desire I have to do nothing less than cut the heart out of your chest; I hate you, and the thought of working alongside you is tremendously nauseating. We will not be bosom buddies, we will not be partners. You have your tasks, and I have mine; though I fear that implies perhaps working together, that does not mean the rivalry between us will change."

Cloud sighed and rubbed his burning eyes, wondering to himself how in the name of all that was holy did Sephiroth rationalize telling him these things, of which he was already aware, at two-fricken-o'clock in the morning? Then, a thought crossed his mind, a thought that had been permanently burned into his consciousness since that day in the past when Sephiroth had kidnapped him to the Lifestream during his initial quest to stop the madman: _Cloud, he's Sephiroth the Psychopath; your argument is completely invalid. _As Cid would eloquently declare:_ Way to choose your enemies, dumbass._

"Do I make myself clear, Strife?" Sephiroth finished in a brutally quiet whisper, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His green reptilian eyes were calm and in control.

It was a moment before Cloud answered, and in that time span Sephiroth watched as Cloud's blue eyes wandered over his muscular body, and Cloud's expression went from a frown of uncertainty to a smirk of almost disbelief. Then, the boy glanced down at his own arms and shoulders, seeing what were left of various nicks, cuts, and stabs from the General's extremely sharp sword.

_I wonder if…mmm, I'll check later._ Cloud thought, not really feeling comfortable stripping his shirt off in front of his enemy just to count how many other scars he could find. _Thanks, Cetra. I don't think we would have forgotten, though_, he mused, mentally shaking his head at the finer details of the Ancients' intentions.

"Sephiroth, I am painfully reminded every damn day of your feelings for me." Cloud began and Sephiroth sat back in his chair in gratification, picking up the hint of aggravation in the boy's undertone but deciding to ignore it. "But, I have no intention of screwing this up. Aerith made it explicit that we must work together in order to accomplish the Ancients' plans. That is _we_, as in you and I. Not just you, not just me. _Us_."

Cloud's analysis of the Cetra's use of words was impressive, and illustrated the fact that even though he was, physically, only sixteen years old, the maturity and communication skills employed was that of a twenty-three year-old man. Sephiroth knew he was right, and he was thankful Cloud had enough wit to understand that this teamwork was just going to be a noble means to end.

"That means any decision made concerning a possible 'rerouting' of the future needs to be mutual, _General_. And yes, do expect me to call you that because you are my commanding officer, and not because I have a need to make your life any rougher than it already is. Regardless of the orders, missions, or assignments Shinra gives you, should any lead to areas pertaining to the past _and_ the future, you must include me." Cloud continued, blinking but not breaking eye contact with his enemy. "That is to say, I do not assume you will call or text me every time a situation arises, but if it's of some importance, then we must work together; but, ultimately, _you_ are in charge, _you_ have final say, and we must try to maintain whatever expectations there are of us in this lifetime, in order to not rouse suspicions, and to accomplish our mission. Does that make sense?"

"I concur." Sephiroth said quickly, and Cloud arched an eyebrow at him. "And as your General, _Strife_, I expect to be treated with due respect from a subordinate. If I recall correctly, in the…'past', I was aware of your existence as only an infantryman, and I surmise it will be a similar situation in this reality. As such, it would be…"

"We cannot act like we're fixin' to murder each other, I get it." Cloud interrupted coarsely, his country accent shining through in his fatigue, and green fire glowed in Sephiroth's eyes. His muscles bunched in anger but he did not move. "Unless otherwise noted, we ignore each other. I follow orders; you deal with the politics and red-tape. We accomplish our mission, everyone goes home happy. Sound like a plan?"

After that comment, he wanted nothing more than to walk up to the cheeky little bastard and slap him across the face, but instead Sephiroth only sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. Cloud was used to being a leader, making the hard decisions…and evidently, coming directly to the point. In a few sentences, the blond menace managed to say what Sephiroth would have, no doubt, taken several paragraphs to articulate.

Platinum bangs, parted as ever on each side, shadowed his face as he dropped his head in contemplation, unsure of his next words. He had come here to bully Strife into submitting to his rules and… to sequester an explanation from him, as well. Or rather, an opinion he had not been given a chance to procure when that flower girl confronted them in her church. However, as he thought further, that opinion would be wrought with hasty conclusions should this conversation continue on its present course; both men were tired, and it was never a good idea to get someone's feelings on a subject matter when they were sleep-deprived.

"Second Class SOLDIER Cloud Strife," Sephiroth began, jerking his head up as he went into commanding officer-mode. _If you want me to be your General, Cloud, then we start right now. Let the games begin. _Like a good boy, Cloud snapped to attention on his bed and saluted his superior, mentally smiling to himself.

_Let the games begin, indeed. _Cloud reasoned abrasively, forcing himself to not blink as Sephiroth mentally stuck out at him for his snarky…thought.

"At 1400 hours tomorrow, you shall report to my office for our follow-up meeting, and your next assignment. Since you probably have failed to recollect from the past, it is room 7501a, on the 75th floor, of course. If something occurs forcing me to cancel or otherwise reschedule, I will text you within an hour of said meeting with a new time. I will not accept tardiness, and/or excuses at your inability to be there. Is that clear, Strife?"

"Yes, sir." Cloud responded, lowering the hand from his forehead as Sephiroth stood and stepped slowly toward the door. Without so much as a farewell, the General left in a swirl of silver hair, leaving Cloud in a deep sea of insomnia-induced anger and confusion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**** Keep the reviews coming, people! Love them, as always. This chapter was fun to write, so enjoy it! Thanks.**

**Disclaimer:**** Shut up, silly! I own nothing of Final Fantasy VII.**

Chapter 4

Cloud stirred well after the sun had risen to find himself comfortable in his bed. The first thought was that the incident last night had all been simply a horrid dream…but then he saw the open window and curtain, and felt a slight throbbing in the middle of his chest. His plain bedside alarm clock read a little after eight, and he slowly sat up trying to form a cohesive thought through the haziness in his brain.

The light switch had been turned off, but when and how he had done so he could not recall. He remembered opening the shades a few hours before and noticed with dismay that the computer chair sat where Sephiroth had left it. _Damn_. So it wasn't a nightmare. It was enough being abruptly dumped into the past without so much as a starting point or map, and it left Cloud feeling as of he were a sea captain in a hurricane without a compass; but when Sephiroth had decided to virtually commit a home invasion to assert his power simply because he had nothing better to do had Cloud seeing red.

He had no idea what to expect from being a SOLDIER Second Class. Was he a cadet instructor? Did he have the day off? Was he supposed to attend meetings? Aside from the order to report to his office later that afternoon, Sephiroth had given him the first and only coherent orders of this new life. What about Zack? And…_Aerith_?

Cloud felt an icy hand clench the heart in his chest as he realized she was _alive_. Well, at least he had hoped she was alive. She never explicitly said she would be here, and he heaved a great sigh and prayed that the Ancients had not changed _that_ part of this past.

Eying his PHS plugged into the wall charger shifted his thoughts to Tifa, and rubbing his face with both hands; he stood and stepped toward the phone. It was exactly how he remembered it as he flicked it open and began scrolling through his small list of contacts. Tifa's home phone was second to last on the list before Zack, and Cloud could not help but smile as warmth filled his chest.

He nearly pressed the 'call' button, but stopped short, however, after calculating the time difference in his head; it was barely past 4AM in Nibelheim and he feared that waking her at such an ungodly hour would not be in his current best interest. Snapping the phone shut then, Cloud made a 'mmph' sound in his throat as he walked across the room to his vanity and sink. Whomever were his suitemates occupied the shared shower and toilet for the time being, so in keeping with the word he made to himself the night before, Cloud pulled off his nightshirt and gawked wide-eyed in the backlit mirror at his reflection staring back at him.

Spiky golden blond hair, electric blue eyes, and his mother's facial bone structure he had not seen in a long time; even while living at 7th Heaven with Tifa running his delivery service he had not looked closely at himself in the mirror, not even while styling his hair before another day at work. The spikes needed some tender loving care after the fight and having slept on them all night, and _damn_, he even found a pimple on his chin but nothing a nice hot shower and scrub would fail to remedy. _Gotta love the hormone fluxes…all over again._

Five-foot-seven is not at all tall for a full-grown man, and to his dismay, at present as a teen he was probably only a couple inches shorter. Cloud realized not too long ago to quit complaining about his height and use it to his advantage (parrying and dodging attacks from such a man as tall as Sephiroth had seemed almost too easy at times…_almost_), and this life would be no different. Additionally, the Ancients graciously saw fit to not return him to the scrawny sixteen year-old he had been, nor was he, on the other hand, the sleek and muscular warrior that he had grown into; rather, a contented mixture of the two. With time, training and…several dozen more mako injections, he would no doubt return to the powerful and agile fighter to which the Planet had grown accustomed.

The scars were a new addition, however, and three of them caught his attention instantaneously. The first was a nice three- or four-inch long slice across his left cheek, and he smiled as it added character to his otherwise mostly blemish-free face.

The other two, conversely, were not so welcome; they were inches apart, one on top of the other and Cloud frowned as he leaned in nearer to the mirror for a closer look. The first, and his memory told him this one was from Sephiroth's sword at the Nibelheim reactor all those years ago, sat literally just below his ribcage on the left side, neatly nestled where his sternum, 12th rib, and xiphoid process all conjoined. It was precisely the width of Masamune's blade, and he pushed back the memories and pain of that horrifying day as he shifted his eyes to the other scar that exploited the same area of flesh.

Slightly to the north was the scar Sephiroth had given him technically only hours ago in real time; the blade had been situated almost right up against his sternum in between his left-side fifth and sixth ribs, and the agony he had recalled dangling from the madman's sword caused him to bow his head in nausea momentarily. Both occasions had been too close for comfort, and as he surveyed the remaining nicks, cuts, and stabs all over his upper torso (and the circular blue-black bruise dead-center on his sternum from Sephiroth's gun), Cloud came to a grave conclusion, one he had fallen short of realizing in the past.

_Sephiroth does not mess around_, he thought morbidly.

Granted, in the past life, the silver-haired man had taken an almost sadistic delight in mentally and physically torturing his young enemy, seemingly at times, to no end. He attacked Cloud's heart metaphorically, taking from him everything, from his sanity at one point to someone he cherished; but when it came down to an opportunity to physically kill him, Sephiroth always aimed for the vitals. None of that juvenile and nonsensical waste of time in head-shots; the General knew what he wanted and that was his enemy's heart and lungs.

The invariable kill shot; sudden, effective…deadly.

It was not a pretty thought, and it was not always quick, either; yet, then again, nothing with Sephiroth was ever merciful or swift, and targeting those vitals gave the controlling side of the man satisfaction in knowing that suffering was a mathematical certainty. His years of anatomy and physiology education, coupled with sword training in simulation rooms and on the battlefield made Sephiroth in effect the perfect executioner. He knew the human body…and the most effective way to kill it.

Shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of those macabre thoughts, Cloud became aware that the shower had been empty, and by the sounds of it, for quite some time. He knew the hot shower would help clear his head, and he stepped into the steaming stall with a smirk on his face.

* * *

The shower had cleared his head immensely, and Cloud stepped out into the coolness of his room with a deep breath and peace with the tasks given him. His spiky hair retained most of its trademark look, but after dressing in the typical SOLDIER outfit, Cloud did spend some time detailing the spikes until they were to his satisfaction. After brushing his teeth and slipping on the standard Shinra-issued boots, his stomach rumbled in hunger and he rolled his eyes before walking to grab his phone.

As soon as the phone was in his hand, as if by some divine design, it rang and the name on the screen made the blood drain from Cloud's face:

ZACK

"Hello…?" He answered timidly, not sure of the emotions running through him.

"Cloudy! G'morning! Breakfast?" Zackary Fair, the always chipper, always positive, always caring friend and hero Cloud had admired and missed dearly sounded the exact same as the last time they had spoke. His pulse raced and his diaphragm seemed to be uncooperative at the moment.

"Zack…" Cloud whispered as his heart fluttered. The phone nearly slipped from his sweaty palm and though he tried, he could not hide the disbelief in his voice.

"That's my name! And Chocobo, it's a simple 'yes' or 'no.' I haven't seen you in a week and we need to catch up." Zack replied, a hint of confusion lacing his voice. On the other end of the line, nearly purple mako eyes rolled in their sockets. _Trust Cloud to be a blond as ever…poor guy._

"Yeah. Where do I meet you?" Cloud shook his head and recovered his senses, nostalgia moving aside to reason and anticipation.

"I'm right across the hall. Just come knock on my door when you're ready to leave, alright?" Zack replied with a smile and as ever, his hyperactive, extroverted personality clicked the phone closed, hanging up on Cloud before his buddy could confirm.

Eager was hardly the appropriate word to describe what Cloud felt when he heard Zack disconnect. For a moment, he stared at the back-lit screen of the simple flip phone. Zack's name blinked with the forty-five second call time before it went dark. He almost felt a tear escape one corner of his eye before utter euphoria rose in his chest. Everything he had ever wanted to say to his friend, every thought, every guilt, every joy…every sorrow since the day he was gunned down overflowed in torrents from his subconscious.

He wanted to spill his heart to Zack, but aside from the Bro Tip that defines manly tears and crying as a precursor to owning up to past mistakes, he mentally slapped himself for remembering that Zack had no clue as to what he would most likely be talking about. Cloud smiled and shoved the phone in his back pocket before making his way to the door.

Clicking off the vanity light, Cloud reached for the door and when it opened, was standing face-to-face with the biggest, whitest, most welcoming grin he had ever seen. Zack clapped him on the shoulder as Cloud pulled the door softly closed behind him and offered Zack a casual 'what's up?' nod before letting his friend lead him down the hall, jabbering away already about a brief mission in North Corel to quell a small rebellion.

Cloud heard only a little, too wrapped up in being in Zack's intoxicatingly friendly and protective presence once again.

The SOLDER's mess hall was amok with hungry thirds and seconds, and a long line awaited Zack and Cloud after they scanned their meal cards. In the meantime, Cloud had settled himself and had actually engaged in Zack's cheerful chatter. The sizzling sausage, bacon, and the smell of cooking eggs, pancakes, and hash browns rose to their noses, and Zack inhaled deeply the alluring aroma.

After gathering their food and drinks, and after saying good morning to a few old friends, during which Zack did all the talking as Cloud had absolutely no clue as to whom those guys were, they found a bar-height table near the window.

"Hey, Cloud, I actually wanted to get your approval on something." Zack said in between bites of an omelet the size of his face. Cloud nursed a cup of coffee and chewed absentmindedly on a strip of bacon as his eyes wandered from the vast steel-and-concrete jungle that was the Shinra Complex outside to meet Zack's purple gaze.

"What's up?" Cloud said as casually as he could, his small-talk tactics feeling a tad rusty. The coffee bit his tongue and he chased it with a sip of ice water.

His friend leaned forward in his stool and had a mischievous grin on his face. "I'm gonna marry her. What do you think?" Zack announced quietly then. Cloud promptly choked on the water and his eyes widened. His friend responded by giving him a toothy grin and nodding pompously.

"Who?" Cloud ventured the question, but his heart felt as if he already knew the answer.

"Seriously, Cloud? Aerith! Aerith Gainsborough!" Zack's jaw dropped incredulously and he snorted. "I told you about her! We've been an item for over a year now. It's time I put a ring on that pretty finger of hers! And _you_, my friend, are going to be my best man. I will not take 'no' for an answer."

Zack bit his bottom lip as he leaned back in his stool and smugly crossed his arms across his chest. Cloud was…speechless, and it was a few moments before he returned to reality.

"Zack, that's fricken awesome! Congratulations. Of course, I approve, jeez!" Cloud managed after clearing his throat with another gulp of water. "Let's see the ring."

Zack shook his head. "Got it special made. Picking it up next Tuesday, so I'll show you then. She'll love it."

"And she'll say yes, I know she will." Cloud interjected, relief washing over him. It had always been one of his wishes to see those two tie the knot, and now, he would bear witness to it as Zack's right-hand man. _Thank you, Cetra._

As with all emotional conversations between two men, an awkward silence followed. To make it seem less so, the two ate quietly, mulling over each other's thoughts independently. Cloud suddenly felt that last night, the whole incident with Sephiroth and the mission he had with the man, could take a back seat. Zack deserved happiness, more than he would ever know, and clearly the Planet was going to see to it that Cloud's hero got a chance at just that.

A lump formed in his throat. The Ancients had set this up almost too perfectly, and for a moment Cloud was weary of something that always went right. However, that did not dim the glow he felt from his friend sitting across from him, and Cloud vowed at that moment to do everything in his power to make sure Zack got the life he deserved with the woman he cherished.

The room began to clear after about a half hour, and it was by then that Cloud and Zack had cleared their plates of all tiny morsels and crumbs of food. Cloud's coffee was gone, and Zack's orange juice had been spent as soon as he sat at the table. The two friends leaned back comfortably in their respective chairs, both looking out the window to the dull, grey landscape that was Midgar.

"So, Cloud, what've I missed?" Zack began, but was cut short when Cloud's PHS buzzed loudly in his back pocket.

"Hang on a second," Cloud said as he pulled the phone out. It was an unknown number and he eyed Zack who gave him a flick of his chin, telling him to go ahead and answer it. The time was a little before ten, and Cloud had no idea who would be calling him.

"Strife here," he answered robotically and Zack frowned with worry as all the color drained from Cloud's cheeks.

"I hope you enjoyed your breakfast, Cloud." The unmistakable voice of Sephiroth spoke softly over the phone and Cloud nearly blanched. "Our meeting time, regrettably, needs to be changed. As soon as you and Fair are finished, you are to come directly to my office. _Alone_. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Cloud found his resolve and said quietly. Sephiroth grunted over the phone and hung up, and rage filled Cloud's gut.

Saving the number in his contacts was absolutely distressing; typing out every letter to Sephiroth's name was akin to shackling himself to the wall of a dank, old leaky basement with no window and no room to move. The man would just not leave him alone, nor let Cloud out of his sight long enough to let the boy enjoy a meal with a friend. Sephiroth had unrestricted access to the thousands of closed-circuit cameras in every corner of every room and down every hallway of the Shinra building, and the thought was enough to force Cloud to slam his fists to the table, rattling the dishes and causing Zack to jump back, startled.

"Cloud, what the hell was that?" Zack asked with a frown.

"Sephiroth." Cloud mumbled and Zack blinked in confusion.

"Sephiroth? Why is he calling you? I didn't even think the guy noticed you existed." Zack questioned, and Cloud's eyebrows rose at his last statement.

_Oh, Zack, if only you knew, my old friend._ Cloud thought as he shrugged, feigning ignorance. "He wants a meeting with me right after we're finished here, so hopefully I haven't done something to piss him off."

"You? Piss somebody off, even him? I doubt it." Zack spoke with annoyance as he stood and gathered his dishes. Cloud looked at him dubiously and got to his feet, as well. _My existence pisses Sephiroth off; but no worries, Zack, just a minor detail._


End file.
